


Watching You Sleep

by Emotionally Compromised Robots (CDRomelle)



Series: Tumblr TOG Fics [1]
Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Domestic Fluff, Gen, Insomnia, M/M, Ode to Joe's Beauty, Sharing a Bed, extremely soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-07
Updated: 2020-12-07
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:48:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27939962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CDRomelle/pseuds/Emotionally%20Compromised%20Robots
Summary: Nicky likes watching Joe sleep.
Relationships: Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova
Series: Tumblr TOG Fics [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2045996
Comments: 23
Kudos: 187





	Watching You Sleep

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by [a tumblr post from Polarcell and poemsingreenink](https://emotionallycompromisedrobots.tumblr.com/post/636819547480113152/watching-tog-clips-again-and-like-as-much-as-i).

Nicky can't sleep.

Maybe it's the adrenaline of the earlier gunfight still jangling through his veins. Maybe it's the book he finished three days ago and still can't stop thinking about. Maybe it's just that it's a warm night and Joe is a furnace at his back, every place their skin touches a tactile comfort yet also a boiling prickle.

But Nicky is loathe to part from him, so he lies there, enduring the heat so he can bask in the texture and sensation of Joe: a nose at his nape, the wool of a beard just below that, an arm snug over his ribcage that rises and falls with Nicky’s breath, and chest-belly-hips-groin bracketed around him that gently displace him with every one of Joe’s own breaths. 

Nicky wants to stay here, wants to feel sleep tug at his eyes and soften his brain and to fall asleep just like this. 

But he’s wide awake and he’s starting to sweat, so Nicky lifts Joe’s arm by the wrist and sits up. 

Joe snuffles, his fingers curling over air, but Nicky knows what to do. He grabs a pillow from the top of the bed and places it longwise against Joe’s torso, then replaces Joe’s arm over the top. 

Still asleep, Joe squeezes the pillow, presses his face into it, and inhales--or tries to; the pillow has more give than Nicky’s neck, so Joe has effectively smothered himself with it. Nicky watches as Joe pulls back and tilts his head to put the side of his face against the pillow, his nose and mouth now exposed to the air. It scrunches up Joe’s cheek and nose in a way that has Nicky smiling, unable to stop a little snort of laughter at this sight he’s seen thousands of times and wants to see a thousand more.

Sitting with his hips still warm in the cradle of Joe’s hips and thighs, Nicky lays a hand along the pillow subbing in for his own torso and just--looks at him. 

Joe is wearing cargo pants and a tee shirt that belongs to neither and both of them. His belt is still on but, in a concession to the relative safety of this hideout, his shoes are off, his socked toes curling and uncurling where they peek out from the blanket as he resettles around Nicky’s absence. Nicky taps one toe, then the other. Then he gets up, retucks the blanket around Joe’s shoulders and feet, and shuffles around the dark room to where their rucksacks lie, zipped and ready to go by the door. 

Joe snuffles again at the sound of Nicky unzipping his bag. Nicky waits until Joe has resettled, squeezing the pillow even tighter to his chest, before rummaging about inside it to withdraw a flashlight and his book. If he can’t sleep, and he can’t stop thinking about this book, he might as well read it again. 

There’s a moth-eaten old armchair in the corner of the room. Nicky sits in it, places the book on one of its faded arms, and twists to plant both elbows on either side of it, one hand holding up his head and the other holding the flashlight aloft. 

Not half a chapter in and Nicky’s eyelids start to droop. But he knows only too well that exhaustion like this is deceptive, that as soon as he puts down this book his mind, no longer filled up by these lovely words, will turn into a gray chasm, a creaking emptiness where thoughts are few and far between but echo and rebound against his skull like clashing symbols, louder every time they recur. 

He keeps reading. 

By the second chapter his eyes won’t stay open and he’s nearly dropped the flashlight twice. He forces himself to the end of the page, then sits back in the chair with the book and flashlight on his lap and scrubs his hands over his eyes. Can he sleep now? Over nine hundred years of life and he still can’t be sure, but at least he’s figured out by now that continuing to read will be futile. 

Nicky leaves the room to get himself a glass of water and use the toilet, then comes back into his and Joe’s room and carefully closes the door behind him. 

Joe is still utterly dead to the world, his body half-curled around the pillow. His toes are poking out of the bottom of the blanket again. There’s a damp spot on the pillowcase beneath his half-open mouth. 

God, Nicky loves him so much. 

He still feels skeptical of the possibility of sleep, so instead of trying to replace the pillow with himself--after all, what if he just gets up again?--Nicky slips in on Joe’s other side. 

When Nicky lifts the blanket to let himself in Joe flinches at the sudden cold and clutches not-Nicky, his nose burrowing for a warmth the pillow can’t provide. Nicky gets settled as fast as he can without jostling Joe too badly--hips tucked around hips, knees around knees, chest to back and shoulders around shoulders. Though still asleep, God bless him, Joe quickly realizes where the warmth is, and presses back against Nicky’s body, bonking the back of his head against Nicky’s nose as he adjusts himself. 

Nicky bites his lip against another silent laugh and waits for Joe to settle before finishing his own adjustments. There isn’t room on the pillow under Joe’s head for Nicky’s own, but that’s okay; Nicky won’t be sleeping any time soon anyway. He props himself up on an elbow, cheek in hand, rests his other hand on the top of Joe’s hip, and just looks. 

Joe’s face is tilted slightly upward, resting as it is against the not-Nicky pillow, so from this angle Nicky can see the slope of his cheekbones, the straight line of his nose, the slight twist of his brows, the hint of a full lip peeking out of the beard. In this darkness, Nicky can even make out the suggestion of freckles on his cheeks and forehead. 

He kisses Joe’s ear. Joe makes a soft vocalization in response, almost a whimper but muffled by his mouthful of drool. Nicky reaches over and pushes the pillow down and away from Joe’s face, readjusting it until Joe’s head lies flat against the one under his head, then cups Joe’s jaw and gently shuts his mouth. If he keeps drooling like this Joe will wake up thirsty, and a thirsty Joe is an even crankier Joe. 

Pleased with his work, Nicky shoves his hand between Joe’s belly and the not-Nicky pillow and splays his fingers over Joe’s ribs. Joe is still sleep-warm, but now the feeling is cozy on Nicky’s skin instead of prickly-hot. He hadn’t realized how cold the room was until now that he was back in the warmth of Joe’s bed. 

Joe’s legs shift. Nicky stills again, wary of waking him, but Joe only hooks his top foot around Nicky’s and pulls his leg between his own. 

Nicky closes his eyes, just for a moment, the better to savor the sensation of Joe’s thigh between his. These same muscles that are marble-hard when running, or fighting, or kneeling between Nicky’s as he fucks into him, are now slack and soft, almost plush beneath that fine dusting of hair that drags so beautifully against Nicky’s own. 

Slowly, with Joe’s curls still tickling his nose, Nicky peels his cheek off his palm and stretches out the arm he’d propped himself up on, then lies it flat and rests his head on it. Not the most comfortable position, but he’s slept this way before, and besides, it’s not like he’s going to fall asleep any time soon anyway. 

Just when Nicky thinks he had settled again, Joe’s thighs tense once more. Then Nicky feels he soft exhalation of a fart against his crotch. He buries his face into the pillow behind Joe’s head to smother his own grin. God almighty, Nicky loves him so much.

In another moment, the fart smell has reached Nicky’s nose. Vibrating with repressed laughter, he noses into Joe’s hair and fills his lungs with the sandalwood scent of Joe’s conditioner. It’s so good that he takes another breath, then another. 

Sleep might never be his friend, but Nicky can’t be too upset about it; he has something better than sleep, more reliable and far, far kinder. He kisses the back of Joe’s neck, tongue flicking over the chain of Joe’s necklace and a small mole just beside the knob at the top of his spine. And it feels so good that he does it again. 

Nicky readjusts the arm he has slung over Joe’s ribcage until it’s snug underneath Joe’s own arm, still hugging the pillow. Like this, the ridge of Nicky’s shoulder is just a bit higher than Joe’s, the perfect size to curl around him. He lets his attention drift from one point of contact to the next: chest, belly, hips, groin. Thighs and the tops of shins. Toes that curl and uncurl to the slow rhythm of breaths that gently displace Nicky’s body with their rise and fall. Nicky syncs his own breathing up to that rhythm, out when Joe breathes in, in when Joe breathes out. 

_I’ll get up in a minute,_ Nicky tells himself, taking another deep lungful of Joe’s scent. _Maybe some warm milk. Maybe that will do it. I’ll get up in a minute._

When he opens his eyes again, the sun has risen. 

Nicky smiles, and makes no move to get up. 

**Author's Note:**

> I'm on tumblr at EmotionallyCompromisedRobots. Come say hi and send me ficlet prompts!


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